


Never See the Sky the Same Way

by Sena



Series: Dreaming to the Twilight [2]
Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Angst, Coming of Age, Friends to Lovers, High School, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-17
Updated: 2010-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 06:05:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sena/pseuds/Sena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer might actually have feelings for his best friend.  Spencer's best friend might be a stupid boy who doesn't realize this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never See the Sky the Same Way

Spencer sits on the counter in Ryan's bathroom, letting his heels kick against the cupboard doors as he drums the beat from _The Party Song_ on his thighs.

"You know we're not a cover band anymore," Ryan says as he turns off the water.

Spencer grins and shakes his head. Figures Ryan would recognize the beat. "Stuck in my head," he says.

Ryan reaches out from behind the shower curtain and grabs a towel. Spencer doesn't know why. It's not like he hasn't seen it. It's not like it hasn't been _inside_ him. He keeps his hands still in his lap as Ryan gets out of the shower, keeps his eyes on the floor. It's been two months and they haven't talked about it. They haven't done anything since. Sometimes he's thankful and sometimes it makes him hurt deep in his chest.

He picks up Ryan's camera, fiddles with it as Ryan pulls on boxers and jeans. He takes a picture while Ryan towels off his hair.

"What was that for?" Ryan asks.

Spencer shrugs and turns the camera off. "You're the camwhore."

"Ass," says Ryan, but he's not mad. He snaps open the little tackle box that he keeps his earrings in, turns the water on in the sink and washes a taper. He takes a deep breath and pushes it through his earlobe, pausing when it's almost all the way through. "Fuck," he breathes. "Can you?" he asks.

"Which one?"

"On the left."

Spencer takes the tackle box and fishes out a stainless steel plug. He takes one of the black o-rings off and sets it aside, washes the plug under the hot water. Ryan takes the plug from his hand, pushes it up against the fat end of the taper and slides everything through.

"Fuck," Ryan says again as he takes the o-ring and secures it on the back of the plug. He takes another deep breath and oils up the taper, slides it through his left ear. The second ear's always the hardest to stretch. Ryan's breath hitches and he closes his eyes tight. He bites his lower lip and takes a deep, shaky breath.

Spencer washes the other plug, sets it on top of the tackle box and waits. "You need a hand?" he asks.

Ryan shakes his head. "I'm good," he says, but his voice is strained. He looks at his ear in the mirror and frowns.

"Your left ear's a bitch," Spencer tells him. "Let me."

Ryan sighs and drops his hands, turns his head to let Spencer work the taper through. "Ow, fuck," he says as Spencer slides it forward. "That fucking hurts."

"Uh-huh."

"Seriously. You don't know what it's like."

"You're right," Spencer deadpans. "I have no idea what it's like to fit something huge into a small orifice."

Ryan's eyes snap open and he blushes all the way down to his chest. Spencer shoves the taper through and secures the plug in Ryan's ear without really looking at his face. Sometimes, Spencer wishes he had better control over the smartass things that come out of his mouth.

"I'm gonna," says Ryan, and he turns and leaves the bathroom.

Spencer sighs and puts Ryan's earrings away. He waits a while, then heads toward Ryan's room. Ryan's pulling a t-shirt on and Spencer leans against the doorframe. "What are you and Tiff doing tonight?" he asks.

Ryan shrugs and smoothes his t-shirt down. "Movie, probably. I don't know." He's looking everywhere but at Spencer.

Spencer scratches at the scab on his elbow he got from wiping out on his mountain bike the week before. The way Ryan's not looking at him is pissing him off. He wants to shake Ryan sometimes, wants to shove Ryan against the wall and make him admit that it happened.

"I'm gonna take off," he says instead.

Ryan nods. He still doesn't look at Spencer. "Yeah. I'll text you tomorrow or whatever."

Spencer walks home with his hands in his pockets and hopes Tiff gives Ryan gonorrhea.

"You guys in the mood for chicken and rice?" Spencer's mom asks as soon as he closes the front door behind him.

"It's just me tonight," he says, walking into the kitchen. His mom's stirring together Minute Rice and sour cream and cream of chicken soup in her big red mixing bowl. Chicken and rice casserole is one of Spencer's favorites.

"Where's Ryan?" she asks.

"Nailing one of his skanks."

His mother's eyes grow wide. "Spencer!" she snaps. "You do not talk about women that way."

"Have you _met_ any of Ryan's girlfriends?" he asks.

His mother's lips quiver and he can tell that she's trying not to smile.

"Fine," he says. "He's having an evening out with one of his questionable female companions."

She digs in the cupboard for her pyrex casserole dish, layers raw chicken breasts in it before spooning the rice mixture over top. "He does have, well, interesting taste in girls. Sometimes I wonder what he's doing with them."

Spencer snorts. "I know exactly what he's doing with them," he says.

"Spencer."

"He doesn't date them for their personalities, Mom."

She frowns and pats down the top of the casserole with the back of a wooden spoon. "I wonder if I should talk to him," she says. "Is he...I mean, do you know if he's being careful?"

"Oh, my God," Spencer says, mortified. The only thing worse than his mother talking about birth control would be his mother talking to Ryan about birth control.

"You know George hasn't talked to him about it."

Spencer makes a face and shakes his head. He just suddenly wondered how he'd know if he had chlamydia of the asshole, and that's something he really, really doesn't want to think about.

The next day, Ryan texts him a little after one. _coming to pick u up_

Spencer puts his shoes on and walks out into the driveway, hops into Ryan's car when he pauses in front of Spencer's house. If anyone asked, Ryan would act like he was way too cool to listen to Jimmy Eat World, but it's one of his secret vices and _Bleed American_ is playing when Spencer gets in.

Spencer tips his head back and follows Zach Lind's drum line in his head. Neither one of them says anything for a while. "What I like, I think," Spencer says, "is how the lyrics are fucked up while the melody's catchy and upbeat. It's like. I don't know. Summerlin. Nice until you pay attention to what's underneath."

"Hmm," says Ryan.

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"Tiff's."

Spencer sighs.

"Why do you hate her so much?" Ryan asks. "You don't even know her."

"We just don't have anything in common," Spencer says.

"You have me in common."

"Awesome. We'll talk about you all afternoon, then."

Ryan rolls his eyes and they listen to the music the rest of the way there.

"So," Ryan says after they get out of the car, as they head up to Tiff's front door. "Tiff's friend Hannah's going to hang out with us, too."

"Great," says Spencer.

"You'll like her," says Ryan.

"I don't need you fixing me up," Spencer snaps. He'd say more, but a girl he doesn't recognize opens the front door.

"Hey, Hannah," Ryan says. "This is Spence."

"Hey," Hannah says. She's a Hot Topic tragedy just like Tiff, but at least she doesn't look like a walking STD. Her blonde hair has streaks of shocking pink and her fingerless gloves have stars and skulls on them. Her skin's clear and soft, though, and she has a pretty smile.

"Tiff's watching TV," she says. She leads them through the kitchen to the family room where Tiff is, indeed, watching television. She's sprawled on the couch in gold lame leggings and a tight leopard print t-shirt. Her hair is wild and streaked four or five different colors of blonde and black. Her eye makeup is so thick Spencer thinks she looks a little bit like a raccoon.

"Ryan motherfucking Ross!" Tiff cries. "Come here and kiss me with tongue!"

Sometimes Spencer wonders if he hates Tiff so much just because he's jealous and doesn't want anyone else to be with Ryan. Then he meets her again and remembers that she's a douchenozzle and his hatred is totally justified.

Spencer pulls at his hair and looks anywhere but the couch where Ryan is wound around Tiff. "So," he says looking at Hannah.

Hannah looks just as uncomfortable as he is. "So," she says. "Um."

"Do you hate it when Tiff fixes you up as much as I hate it when Ryan fixes me up?" he asks.

Hannah nods and shrugs.

"What say we move past the awkward possible love interest phase and right into the not-interested so we'll make fun of our friends, instead phase?"

Hannah laughs and grins at him. "Sounds good," she says. "Oh, Jesus, Tiff! Please don't jerk your boyfriend off when I'm in the room!"

Spencer makes a gagging noise and grabs a throw pillow to chuck at Ryan's face. "Don't make me get the hose," he says.

"Put in the movie," Tiff says, and Hannah goes to put in a DVD.

The movie's called _Donnie Darko_ , and it's pretty cool. When it comes to watching movies with Ryan, Spencer just considers himself lucky if it doesn't end up having subtitles.

After the movie, they flip to MTV and Spencer and Ryan take turns mocking 50 Cent, Mariah Carey and Nickelback. "If we ever sound like Nickelback, you have to promise to kill me," Ryan says.

"It'll be a murder-suicide," Spencer agrees.

"Apple juice," says Tiff, banging her shoulder against Ryan's. "Get me apple juice."

"Get your own apple juice," Ryan says.

"No. I want you to get it for me," she whines. "Go get me apple juice."

Ryan grins and chews on one of Tiff's fingers.

"Ryan," she says, drawing his name out. "Why won't you get me apple juice?"

"Why should I get you apple juice?"

"I gave you anal last night. The least you can do is get me apple juice."

Spencer covers his face with his hands. "No matter how hard I try, I'm never going to be able to unlearn that."

"Seriously," says Hannah.

"Oh, please," Tiff says. "Like you've never done it."

"Not up the ass!" Hannah cries.

Spencer shrugs. "It's not so bad."

Ryan actually snorts Red Bull out his nose, which is maybe the best thing Spencer's seen in months.

"Oh my God," Tiff says. "You're gay? Ryan didn't tell me you were gay."

"I'm bi," Spencer says, like it's no big deal, like it isn't the first time he's ever said it out loud.

"That's hot," says Hannah.

Spencer laughs.

"I'll pay you twenty dollars to make out with Ryan right now," says Tiff.

Spencer looks at Ryan and raises one eyebrow.

"Hell no," says Ryan.

"Come on," says Tiff. "I fucking love guys kissing."

"He's my best friend," says Ryan, annoyed.

"Ryan only fools around with people he doesn't care about," Spencer says. The insult sails right over Tiff's head, but he can see from the set of Ryan's jaw that he gets it.

"You're such a bitch," Ryan snaps.

"Hey, you're the one being homophobic over there."

"I'm not," Ryan starts. "Fine. You want me to kiss you?"

"Seems like your girlfriend wants you to."

Ryan leans forward and presses his mouth against Spencer's, lips closed tight. Spencer's not having any of that bullshit. He reaches his hand up and slides his fingers through Ryan's hair, pulls on it like he knows Ryan likes. He bites and licks at Ryan's mouth until he parts his lips, slides his tongue inside. He can hear Hannah gasp and Tiff cheer, but he doesn't fucking care. He kisses hard and angry, doesn't give Ryan a chance to breathe until Spencer pulls away. Ryan's pupils are dilated and his cheeks are starting to flush the way they do when he gets turned on.

"You're the best fucking boyfriend ever," Tiff says, grabbing Ryan by the arm. She yanks him to his feet and drags him out of the living room, crying, "I'm gonna fuck your brains out, Ryan Ross!"

Spencer clears his throat and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"So," Hannah says, gazing at Spencer like she can see right through him. "You and Ryan, huh?"

Spencer shrugs and looks away, then makes himself look back up at her. "Just when he's between girlfriends and gets bored with his hand," he says.

"That sucks," she says.

He shrugs again.

Hannah's silent for a moment. "Tiff's got the new _Need for Speed_ if you want to play."

Spencer grins at her. "I'll kick your ass." He tries not to think about Ryan having sex with Tiff just down the hall.

Hannah's pretty good, and they come out about even. After four games, she says, "Tiff's my best friend but, um, she doesn't really keep guys around very long."

Spencer nods.

"Is he, I mean. She told me he said he loved her and, just. I thought you should know. Maybe you can warn him or something."

Spencer leans back against the couch and fiddles with the buttons on his game controller. "You can't," he starts. "Ryan's just like that. He's going to be in love with her and then it's going to end badly and he knows it, I'm sure he knows it because he picks the same kind of girl every time. And then he gets to be all emo and wounded and post cryptic poetry on his livejournal."

"You wanna go smoke up in the garage?" Hannah asks.

Spencer shrugs. "Yeah. OK."

Hannah's got two joints in her purse and they smoke one of them while sitting on the trunk of Tiff's mom's Volvo. Spencer kisses her and she lets him, winding her skinny arms around his neck. After a while they break apart and Spencer tips his forehead down to rest against hers.

"We could have sex if you're bored," she says.

"Nah," says Spencer. He pulls away. "You think they're done, yet?"

"I don't know." Hannah pulls out her phone and sends a text. She waits a moment, her phone beeps, and she says, "They're done."

They head back into the house and Spencer goes through the pantry. Weed always gives him the munchies. He's eating Cheez-Its out of the box when Ryan wanders in looking sleepy and content.

"You smell like weed," Ryan says.

"You smell like skank."

Ryan sighs.

"Seriously. I don't have to worry about, like, chlamydia or anything, do I?"

"You're an asshole," says Ryan.

Spencer doesn't disagree with that.

They leave a little while later and Spencer takes the box of Cheez-Its with him. Ryan turns the music off and neither one of them says anything during the drive. Then Ryan drives on past their street. Spencer lifts his head, but he doesn't ask where they're going.

The sport park's about five minutes away from their houses and Ryan pulls into the parking lot near the deserted soccer fields. There's no one else there, and he parks in the shade of a mesquite tree.

Spencer looks out the window to the softball complex across the way where there are a few people playing catch.

"I think Tiff's going to break up with me," Ryan says.

"Probably," says Spencer.

"Why do you say that? Why probably?"

"Because you only date girls who like to fuck with your head."

"You fuck with my head," Ryan whispers.

Spencer swallows hard. He plays with the latch on Ryan's glove compartment.

"What am I supposed to do, Spence?"

"I can't think," Spencer says. "You can't ambush me like this when I can't think."

"If I could take it back, I'd take it back."

Spencer closes his eyes and slides down in the seat. He covers his eyes, presses the heels of his hands hard against his cheekbones.

"I'm so fucking sorry. I thought we could maybe just get past it. I thought you'd forgive me, but it's like you just get angrier all the time. I hate it when you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," Spencer says.

"Yeah, you are."

"So maybe I am. But I'm not sorry."

"Spencer."

"If we're going to say it, then I'm just going to say it. I wouldn't take it back if I could."

Ryan nods, and Spencer can hear him swallow. He drums his thumbs on the steering wheel and doesn't say anything.

"Is she better than me?"

"Christ, Spence."

"Do you like it with her better than you do with me?"

"I can't," Ryan says. "There's not an us. Not a you and me. Not like that."

Spencer shoves open the car door and he's running as soon as his feet hit the pavement--past the soccer fields, past the softball complex, finally hitting one of the village trails where Ryan can't follow him in the car. He runs until the muscles in his thighs start to ache, until he can taste iron with every breath, until his lungs feel like they'll burst. He runs as hard as he can, feet pounding pavement, jarring his entire body with a steady rhythm. He runs until he physically can't run anymore and he stops by the side of the trail, puts his hands on his knees and breathes and tries not to dry heave.

He breathes for a long time, and his legs are shaking but he walks the rest of the way home. He doesn't answer his mother when she says hello when he comes in, just heads into the bathroom and locks the door and strips down and sits beneath the spray of the shower, trembling and refusing to cry.


End file.
